


Hat Runner

by replicasex



Series: Hat AUs [1]
Category: Blade Runner (Movies), Hat Films - Fandom, The Yogscast
Genre: Alternate Universe - Blade Runner Fusion, Dystopia, M/M, Science Fiction, Slavery
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-30
Updated: 2018-01-30
Packaged: 2019-03-11 13:42:38
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 720
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13525473
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/replicasex/pseuds/replicasex
Summary: Special police squads - Blade Runner Units - had orders to shoot to kill, upon detection, any trespassing replicant.This was not called execution. It was called retirement.





	Hat Runner

Officer A walks down the street, collar pinned high across his face, a ward against the snow. The snow drifts down like jagged lace, dirty before it hits the ground. The building was one of the abandoned ones, back when Earth had enough people to be bursting at the seams. Officer A imagined it, then, the huge crush of people everywhere.

It would be different, he thinks. There were so many of them back then. They wouldn't have needed to make _me_. He re-center s his thoughts as he approaches the awning of the decrepit apartment complex. He was out hunting. No, he thinks. It's not an execution. It's a retirement. 

He has better eyesight than a human, better reflexes, better everything. He was made specifically for a task and he is very, very good at it. He judges escape routes, ambush sites, vectors for attacks. Probable traps. He sees nothing. Senses nothing. 

Military, he thinks. It's going to be bad. 

He touches the emanator in his pocket. There's a man in it. Genie in the bottle. Someone who loves him. And, despite all his trying,  a man he cannot stop himself from loving too.  It's the only thing I'd miss, he thinks. If something happened to him. If this mission goes wrong or if one of the stinking tenants in his apartment building decide to end the skinjob living in their midst. He'd have to let them kill him. Or he'd be rogue. Disobedient. Soon to be retired. 

“Like this poor fuck,” He says to himself, quietly. He eyes the staircase, wood-swollen and creaking with age. Time to go.

-

He ascends the stairs three at a time. The replicant, whoever he is, knows he's there. The creaking stairs won't allow a stealth approach anyway. He can only hope for speed.

At the top floor he sees the replicant. He's positioned himself at the end of the hallway, in full view. Officer A knows, then, that the fight is going to go badly. He unholsters his gun and announces himself.

“This is the police! Hands up and put your -” Officer A starts. The replicant disappears, dashing to the side. Officer A runs down the corridor. Outside, he hears the groaning of the wooden floors, the sound of snow hitting the roof, water and decay. He doesn't hear the replicant.

When the hit comes, it comes quick. The replicant actually breaks through the wall beside him, tearing through wood and plaster and the old remnants of metal wiring. He takes Officer A straight into the wall opposite and disarms him before Officer A can even bring the gun to bear. 

The replicant smashes his head against the wall, once, twice, three times and then flings him bodily into the adjoining room. It's filled with old furniture and dust. Officer A gets up and readies himself. The replicant charges.

They grapple on the floor and Officer A manages to grab hold of the replicant's neck. He squeezes as hard as he can. The replicant punches him in the face over and over again. Officer A's nose breaks and blood gushes out of it. He can taste it. 

Finally the replicant grabs a knife out of his coat and plunges it into Officer A's shoulder. His grip is released and the replicant kicks him across the floor. 

The emanator falls out of his jacket and rolls across the dusty wood. The soothing melody of Wallace's software plays and Ross appears in front of him, crouched low to the ground. Facing the replicant.

-

“Ross, baby, no -” Alex slurs, blood gushing out of his mouth. Ross flickers and wavers in the dusty light. 

“Don't touch him! Don't you dare touch him!” Ross blinks and resets into dark, mourning clothes. “Please don't hurt him.” 

The replicant stills then and lowers the knife. Places it carefully inside his coat. He looks at the flickering projection and then at Alex. 

“You named it,” The replicant said, looking at Ross. “You gave it a name.”

Alex is bleeding on the floor, his whole face sticky from the nose down. He spits and coughs and sputters. 

“He named _me_ ,” Alex manages. He spits again and sits up. “I'm Alex.” 

The replicant pauses and then looks at the floor. “TR-073-T.” He looks back at Ross. “Trott.”

 


End file.
